Sunday, April 3, 2016

Three or four years ago

It started out with words.

We were infatuated with
each other's thoughts,

so eager to occupy our minds with
each other's ideas

we would sit side by side at caf├ęs,
on boardwalks and spend hours

sipping from each other's psyche
before we harmonized silence.

"As we drank our tea, we chatted about our relatives, our childhood years, and our shared memories and we spoke ill of no one."
Orhan Pamuk, The Museum of Innocence


Trust child, this pain will
any time now
place you among the stars.

The Red Shift Room at Inhotim

Cildo Meireles: Red Shift, 1967-1984

Shoes are left at the door.
Shoes are not allowed into the
unsettling burgundy world,
your feet have to touch the ground
before they don't.
One cannot tell
whether Impregnation
happens due to preference,
imposition or circumstance.
Still, visitors move in the chaos.
Follow red into a black hole.
Listen to the Shift in the Entorno,
before they can actually see it:
a precariously angled sink floating in space,
red liquid running from the tap.
This is the room word,
if you are listening:
A redshift occurs
whenever a light source
moves away from an observer.
The light from distant galaxies 
is red shifted,
which means they are moving away from us.
The further away the galaxy,
the faster the separation.

(Today's Cuyahoga County Library prompt asked to describe a room in a museum, I went with the Red Shift Room, at Inhotim. The room is divided into three environments: Impregnation, Entorno and Shift and it's one of my favorite installations in that museum.)

liebe biel

Liebe, Biel. 
For God's sake.
(and I do not mean me)

(This is my attempt at completing Found Poetry Review Impromptu #3 - "Vispo", imagined by Nico Vassilakis, I must say, one of the most beautiful and peaceful writing exercises I've ever tried. I'm gonna turn it into a full poem soon.)